The Winchester Games
by skeletonflight
Summary: AU. You haven't seen pain until you watch the people around you die. You haven't seen pain until you see a mother with a dead child. You haven't seen pain until you watch your brother be volunteered for a fight to the death. In this Alternate Universe of the Hunger Games, Dean Winchester volunteers to save his brother from the reaping... And from death.
1. Chapter 1

**A lot of people on tumblr were talking about how much they wanted a Supernatural/Hunger Games cross over, and I was happy to oblige. So here it is folks. Obviously some things have changed, and I give credit two whoever originally thought of the idea. Happy Hunger Games. Review and all of that fun stuff! **

The crunch of the footsteps against gravel.

The smell of harsh, homemade soap against sweaty skin.

The Peacekeepers blinding white uniform.

The sweltering sun beating down on shoulders.

The prick of a finger. The wince of pain.

The shuffling forward, avoiding the eyes of those around you. The glare at the ignorant Effie Trinket, her hands gloved and clasped in delight.

The solemn faces of the women standing at the sides, the very few women…

It was an amazing sight. An amazing, a dreadful, an epic sight. The majority of the men in District 12, forced to be put in the reaping. All of the men, from ages twelve to thirty five. Women were no longer eligible for reaping, at least no longer in this district. There were too few, and we needed them. Now it was two men, two courageous young men, who were reaped and sent to their inevitable death.

An amazing sight indeed.

Dean Winchester stalked forward with the rest of his age group, his eyes searching endlessly for Sam. Dean's name was in the pool at least fifty times, not only for his age but for asking for extra food for his family. He had insisted that Sam didn't ask for any extra, but who knows what he did behind Deans back. They both knew that there were some men out there whose names were in many more times than theirs, but it didn't comfort them at all. Dean had two years until he was out of the pool, Sam had six. In two years, Dean would be ineligible for helping his family eat, and it killed him.

The crowds finally settled down, and Dean spotted Sam. Their eyes met, and Sam smiled grimly at him. To the sides stood the families; the men who were too old or too young to be reaped, the women standing with their husbands, with their children, with their little sibling. A girl with a braid stood beside two others, one that looked to be her mother and the other her sister. Her eyes were locked on an area behind Dean. He turned his head out of curiosity; finding a man with dark hair and eyes. Boyfriend, maybe. Dean didn't know or care. He was only worried about Sammy, only worried about his mother and father.

He went back to looking around the side lines, trying to kill time before the reaping started. There were people crying—some subtly and some not so subtly. He found his mother, her face grim. His father stood beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder in comfort. Dean sighed, averting his eyes. He had spent his entire life waiting for his name to be called, and eventually dreading his brother's name to be called. It was nerve wracking. He could only imagine what his mother and father felt, watching their two sons be practically tied down to the guillotine. They had managed to survive and avoid the reaping pool for this long. Only a few more years, just a few more years and the both of them could just focus on working in the mines with their father, until they grow old (oh, how he wished) and died. Such was the life in District Twelve.

"Thank you for joining us in the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games." Effie Trinket spoke up. "Join me in watching a very special film brought to you straight from the Capitol!" She swept a wide arm out, her ridiculous pink outfit fluttering with the movement. The screen that she gestured to lit up in bright colors, and President Snow's voice filled every previously silent nook and cranny.

"War... Terrible war. Widows, Orphans, a motherless child." Dean turned to Sam and rolled his eyes. Sam returned the gesture with a shrug, his eyes squinting against the sun. "This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them… Loved them. Protected them. Brother turned on brother until _nothing_ remained. And then came the peace. Hard fought, sorely won. A people rose up from the ashes and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. When the traitors were defeated, we swore as a nation we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed, that each year the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute one young man and woman," Obviously after all these years they couldn't be bothered to change it to match with District Twelves set of rules, "to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness."

"Generosity and forgiveness my ass." Dean muttered under his breath. Someone around him laughed, then coughed to cover up the sound.

"This is how we remember our past, this is how save guard our future." The video ended, and Effie gave a little wiggle.

"I just love that!" She looked down at everyone and grinned, her teeth even whiter than the Peacekeepers uniforms. Perks of living in the Capitol. Perfect teeth, perfect body, and the perfect ability to ignore the bullshit surrounding them. "Now, the time has come to select two courageous young men for the _honor_ of representing District Twelve in the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games!" In the other districts, where women were still in the reaping pool, ladies would go first. If it was a young one, a twelve year old, there would be tuts of disapproval, but no one would make a move to replace them. Well, unless you were a Career. But here, in good old District Twelve, every male eligible had their name shoved on a tiny slip of paper inside a clear glass bowl.

At this point, time seemed to slow. Everyone was at risk. A few weeks from now, District Twelve would be two men short. There was no point in hoping for survival. Haymich was the last tribute from Twelve to win, and he was a drunken moron. Dean had to respect the man. He won during a quarter quell, and had twice as many people to kill than the average Hunger Games tribute. Now Haymich dedicated his life to mentoring the two poor bastards that ended up inside the arena. Oh, and drinking. Can't forget the drinking.

Everyone's eyes were locked on Effie at this point. The men who were thirty five, the men who had just this one last reaping to go and they were home free, they were the tensest. Honestly, it was more heartbreaking to see the thirty five year olds be called and see the look of death on their face. They had this last reaping… And they would be fine.

Effie clomped over to the bowl, her extra high heels clacking against the stage floor. Delicately pulling off the glove of one hand, she did a little hand motion and dove straight into the pool. It was like a tease. She shuffled around the bowl for a moment, and Dean could almost hear the pounding hearts of the men around him. She yanked her hand out, a little piece of paper stuck between two fingers. After wobbling back over to the microphone, she smiled out at everyone and pulled the piece open. Dean clenched a fist, his jaw working. It was a sick, sad, twisted world when you knew that everyone in the area was praying for someone else's name to be called. For someone else's "sacrifice." For someone else's death.

Effie took a deep breath, opening her mouth.

"This year's first tribute for the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games is…" Dean looked over at his brother and locked eyes with him. They were both praying, both hoping for the odds to be—"Sam Winchester!" In their favor.

There was a collective sigh. A scream from an unnamed women being held back by her husband. The blood draining out of a tributes face.

Dean felt like he was going to throw up.

Sam's face turned into stone as he walked past all of his fellow men. His footsteps were wobbly. He tried to ignore the sounds of his mother's pain, ignore the looks of relief and guilt of the people that surrounded him. He made it to the center strip where the majority of the peace keepers stood. It led straight to the stage were Effie was smiling, the sheet with his name still gripped in her hands.

"No." Dean said hoarsely. "No. No, Sammy, no!" His shouts turned into screams and he shoved past everyone, knocking someone over. A Peacekeeper reached him before he was able to get to Sam, and his yelling intensified. "No! I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute!" The Peacekeepers released him, and he turned his head to smile at his mother. He turned back and ran forward, throwing his arms around his brother.

"I believe we have a volunteer—" Effie said over the commotion. _No shit. _

"Dean, why did you—" Sam choked out, sounding half pissed and half depressed.

"I can't watch you go through that, man. I can't. Go to mom and dad. Go, please." Dean responded, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. Peacekeepers tore them apart, and Sam yelled Deans name. He stalked up to the stage, ignoring Effie's helping hand as he climbed the small set of stairs. He looked over the crowd of people and saw his family, his mother a weeping mess, clutching onto Sam for her life. They were all staring up at Dean, horror in their eyes.

"And who are you?" Effie smiled at Dean. With the heels she wore, she was eye level, and Dean met her gaze with a level glare.

"Dean Winchester." He spoke flatly, both of his hands clenched into fists.

"Oh, I'll bet my hat that was your _brother_, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Oh, how exciting. Everyone, give a warm round of applause to District Twelves very first _volunteer!_" No one moved. They simply bowed their heads in unison, eyes closed.

A few moments of silence passed.

"And how, for tribute number two!" Effie gave Dean a pat on the arm and quickly walked back over to the bowl, reaching in and pulling another slip out. A few seconds later she was back at the microphone, her perfume wafting over to Dean. He resisted a sneeze.

"This year's second tribute is… Castiel Novak!" Ah, the familiar sound of tutting. That was the only sound that came from the crowd, other than a little noise of pain from a woman. _He must be one of the thirty fives_.Dean thought. No one volunteered for him.

He came up on the other side of the stage, tired lines under his eyes. Dean recognized him from around town, but they had never spoken before. They just stared at each other, both fully aware that there may be a time where they are forced to have to kill each other.

"Go on, you two. Shake hands!" Effie backed up slightly, giving the two men room to reach across from her and clasp hands. They shook, the look of disbelief still evident of Castiel's face.

"Welcome to the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days were painful. Saying goodbye to his family, to Sam, was one of the hardest things Dean has ever had to go through. His father just stood against the wall stoned faced as his mother and brother held onto Dean for dear life. It was difficult, to say the least, staying strong and not breaking down into tears in front of all three of them. Dean managed, like he always did. It was completely worth rushing into his imminent death if it meant Sammy was alive and mostly safe. Dean had the upper hand in the intimidation factor when it came to threatening food out of people, but with a little practice, Sam will be forcing food from Peacekeepers in no time.

He was sitting in the car of a train right now, Effie this time decked out in a blue… thing. She looked like a humanized peacock. The other tribute, the stranger—Castiel—sat a few feet away from him, his hands clasped between his knees. His head was lowered. He looked like he was praying.

_Pray all you want, brother. Not even God is going to help you now. _

Effie continued to babble on about everything and nothing. She was spewing facts about the train, the speed and how amazing it was being on it. Dean was only paying half attention. A few minutes later, dressed in a dirty off-white shirt and slacks, Haymitch stumbled into the room from behind Dean, smelling of booze. His hair looked like he hadn't showered in at least a weak. Castiel looked at Dean with a shocked look on his face, and Dean in turn looked at Effie. It was no secret that Haymitch had a drinking problem, and _had_ one since he won the Games years ago, but they didn't know it was that bad.

"We're supposed to be taking advice from _him?_" Dean asked, shocked. Their lives were dependent on a drunk. Awesome. Haymitch didn't respond, just stared at him and took another swig from the bottle that was gripped in his hand. Dean let out a laugh. "Awesome. Well, Castiel, I guess I'll see you on the other side." Effie cleared her throat trying to pacify Dean's anger.

"Now, there is no reason to get upset—"

"No reason to get upset? I'm on a train heading 300 miles per hour to my death!"

"Only 200 miles per hour, actually," Effie bristled. "He is your mentor, Dean. Now I understand he may have a slight—" She paused. "_Drinking_ problem, but—"

"Slight?"

"Listen, princess." Haymitch finally spoke, his words surprisingly steady for how trashed he looked. Dean looked over at him and glared, pressing his fist against the soft fabric of the chair he was in. "I'm the best mentor that this damn district has."

"You are the _only_ mentor that this district has." Castiel said quietly, looking up shyly from staring at his hands. Haymitch tilted his head.

"Your point being?"

"Oh, this is bull." Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. "His point is, while we're sitting here on our asses with a drunken buffoon and a woman who doesn't know the difference between clothes and what you put as a centerpiece on a table, the volunteers from Districts One and Two are planning on the slowest form of torture to kill us when we make it to the arena! We are screwed. There's no way around it."

"Well, not with _that_ attitude." Effie shrilled. "The key is getting people to like you, Dean, and so far no one is favoring _your _disposition."

"Okay, you know what? Screw you _and_ your flowery ass." Dean stood up from his chair, knocking it back slightly. Effie gasped in offense. Haymitch just stared at him, eyes narrowed. Castiel had shrunk back against his chair, picking off invisible lint from the pants that they had given him. "I'm not spending my last moments fighting with the Capitols brain children." He stormed off, running from them into a different room a few cars down.

A few moments passed, no sound other than Dean's angry breathing. He snapped, yelling and cursing at the Capitol, at President Snow, at Effie for pulling his brother's name. He felt like his chest was being ripped to shreds.

Thirty minutes later, after Dean had cursed everything he could think of, after everything that wasn't screwed to the train floor was thrown in the opposite direction, he sat, gripping the necklace that Sam had given to him when they were just kids. It was on a weathered leather strand and was golden. It was Dean's most prized possession.

The car door slid open, and Dean released the amulet.

"I'm not apologizing to either of you." He said gruffly, not bothering to turn around.

"I am not here for an apology." Castiel responded. "Why are you sitting on the floor?" Dean resisted a smile. From what he knew of the man, Castiel seemed very… Kind. Very pure. They had only spoken a few times since the reaping, and Castiel never had a bad thing to say.

"Do you see an open chair?" There was movement, and grunting.

"Yeah." Dean looked back. Castiel had set to chairs back upright. He grinned at Dean, sitting down and folding his legs in one.

"You're something, you know that, Castiel?" Dean said, coming up out of his crouch and moving to the open chair, stepping over a lamp that had shattered. He fell into the seat, looking over at Castiel.

"My wife said that, too." So that was the woman who yelled when he was reaped.

"You got a wife?"

"Yeah. Her name is Daphne. Are you married?"

"Nah."

"What about your brother?"

"Sammy? No, Sammy.." Dean sighed. "When we were teenagers, Sam had a massive crush on this girl named Jessica. She seemed to like him too, they always hung out at school. But, ah, when we were 17, she was reaped."

"She did not survive." It was a statement, not a question. Dean nodded.

"She burned alive."

"I remember now… There were a lot of teenagers in the Games that year, weren't there?"

"It was pretty brutal."

"I am sorry, Dean." He shrugged and leaned back.

"She wasn't _my_ girlfriend. Sam was pretty torn up about it. Young love and all that." Dean looked over at Castiel and frowned. "I'm sorry about you and your wife." Castiel's face fell for a moment before he responded.

"I would have done the same thing."

"Sorry?"

"If Daphne was reaped… If her name was called. I would have volunteered. I would not have been able to sit there and watch her be killed. She is too kind hearted for the Games. "

"It's for the better that the women aren't in the reaping pool… It already sucks, knowing that we're probably going to have to kill one from a different district."

"Except for the Careers." This earned a deep laugh from Dean. Castiel smiled slightly.

"You're right. One of those sons of bitches comes after me… No point in having mercy." Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What can you do?"

"What can I do?"

"Yeah. Can you fight?"

"No, I am.. I am a pacifist. I have been my entire life."

"You're going to have to give that up soon, man. Nonviolence won't win you the Games."

"I know… I can heal. I was a doctor." Dean thought for a moment.

"That can come in handy. I can fight pretty well. You can heal. That's perfect. If you and I stick together I think we'll be fine."

"What if we are the last two left?" Dean threw him a smirk.

"Let's hope we're not."

The two men were quiet for a few minutes. Dean observed the mess around him, chewing on his lip. As sick as it sounded, Dean did hope that they weren't the last two left in the Games. He liked Castiel so far. It would be just Dean's awful luck, though. Being one person away from winning, one person away from your family never going hungry again, one person away from riches… And he's stuck with having to kill a brother from his very own district.

"I know herbs, too." Castiel murmured. "The kind that can heal, the kind that can kill. I can tell the difference between them."

"We can mush them up and shove them in the mouths of our sleeping enemies." Dean said only half seriously, pushing himself up and looking out the window. They had gone into a tunnel, the gray streaking past. Castiel stood up and reached a hand out, resting it on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm sorry we're in this Dean, but—" His words were cut off as sunlight slammed into their faces. They had exited the tunnel, and what a sight it was. Thousands of screaming Capitol citizens were held back by a barrier, their colors as bright and vibrant as the sunlight that blinded Dean and Castiel. The train had slowed down quite a bit so that they could get a good look at the Capitol, and so the Capitol could get a good look at him. Dean just stared at everything. Castiel looked awestruck. Neither of them had seen such happy faces, had seen such joy and excitement. Everything was so clear, so lucid here. Very unlike the dull gray of the coal dust that settled on anything and everything it could reach back in District Twelve.

"This is…" Dean started.

"Amazing?"

"I was going to say a mix between fascinating and cruel."

"They are like rats. Scurrying around. Looking for the best meal."

"Yeah, and in this case, _we're_ the meal." The train flew by one woman that looked like she had a fruit basket on her head.

"I do not know whether to laugh or cry."

"There'll be time for both of that, I think." The car door slid open again, and this time it was Effie. She only seemed mildly surprised at the mess she was greeted with.

"Welcome to the Capitol!" She squealed, running over to the two men. Gripping their arms, she peered out the window and grinned at the passing people.

_She's just another one of them_, Dean thought. _All gung ho at the idea of watching people- watching children tear each other apart._ He rolled his arm to loosen her grip and walked off, away from the windows and the screaming people. Castiel remained at the window.

"Are they… Are they yelling for _us_?" Castiel turned to Effie. Effie nodded and grinned.

"This is all for you boys." She clapped her hands together, her eyes wide as she look in the Capitol.

"Yeah, and the other twenty two tributes."

"Enjoy it while you're alive, Winchester." Haymitch drawled, walking into the car. The door shut behind him with a slight swish. "This is the most attention you're going to get. You will join the games, you will die, and everyone is going to forget about you."

"We'll see about that." Dean said under his breath, sitting on the edge of the chair.

"Will we? They are going to eat you alive. Right now, you have no chance of getting sponsors to send you anything that could save your life. And, if I was so inclined to attempt it, no matter how much I beg and plead of them to give you just a little something, _they won't do it_. Getting in good with the Capitol is all about an excited attitude about the Games. Why do you think the Careers are almost always the winners? They like the Games just about as much as the Capitol does. They play their part in this freak show. If you want to live, you have to do the same." Haymitch finished his speech a sip from a glass half full with a brown liquid.

"Well, what if I don't want to?" Dean stood back up and walked to him. Haymitch straightened up, bringing himself a few inches taller than Dean.

"What you want has no weight in this place." Haymitch spoke darkly, his voice lowering. "You have no pride here. You have no faith here. There is nothing put pain, nothing but trying to survive. The last two weeks of your life will be spent in the middle of the city you love to hate. You will be stripped down into half the man you are now, just like every other person that has come before you." He let out a huff of breath, the smell of alcohol almost making Dean gag.

"Everyone, just calm down." Effie said, moving her hands in a calming motion. "Dean, there will be plenty of time to fight during training. Please, both of you."

"Fine. Watch me, Haymitch. I'll get sponsors, that's a promise."

"I'm holding you to it."

"When is training?" Castiel cut in, his eyes wide.

"Ooh, well." Effie tapped her chin. "Tonight you will go in for a little bit of pampering, a few meetings with your stylist, and then the parade. Tomorrow at the earliest!" She seemed excited.

"What are your strengths?" Haymitch asked.

"Herbs and knives." Dean said sarcastically. "What do you mean _pampering_?

"I was a doctor. And Dean can fight." Castiel interjected.

"How well can you fight?" Haymitch looked over at Dean.

"I've saved my own life before." He responded, deciding to be civil for a few minutes. "I'm not bad with a knife, either. I'm a hell of a good shot with a gun, too."

"Where did you get a _gun_?" Effie shrilled. Haymitch smirked slightly.

"Good. Good, that will come in handy in the arena."

The train pulled up to a large building, the screaming crowd disappearing from sight. Dean folded his arms, nervousness pooling in the pit of his stomach. Castiel looked the same way, like he was going to be sick. It was finally sinking in, the idea of their imminent death.

Later that night, after being forced to be scrubbed down and _pampered_ by women with terrifyingly long fingernails, Dean sat on the corner of the bed that was assigned to him. The room was red and brown, the color of blood and dirt. The door cracked open, and Castiel poked his head through.

"Can I come in?" He whispered, glancing around the space.

"Sure." He walked in and closed the door, but didn't move any closer. He leaned against the wall, folding his hands behind them. "What's up?"

"I'm going to help you win." Castiel said quietly, looking Dean straight in the eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm going to help you win. I do not stand a chance out there, but you? You are strong. You can fight. I'm going to help you get back alive."

"Castiel, no. I can't let you do that. You have your wife—" Castiel held one hand up.

"You have your brother. And please, call me Cas."

"Cas. I can't agree to that. You have a wife, maybe one day you'll have children—"

"I'm never having children. Not in a world like this. I saw how you reacted when your brother's name was called. I saw how you didn't even hesitate to take his place. I'm not letting your sacrifice be for naught. I have already accepted the idea of my death. Please, accept the idea of your win." With that, Castiel pushed off the wall and left. Dean shoved himself off the bed and ran for the door, but when he opened it, Castiel was already gone.


End file.
